St. Louis

Now that spring break is over, I’m in Saint Louis, the former capitol of Senegal and the largest city in the country’s northernmost region. I’ve been here ten days as of today.

This week, some friends of mine took a ship south to Cap Skirring, a resort city in the notoriously violent and verdant Casamance region, while others took a 40-hour bus ride to Bamako, Mali. (Around the 27th hour, the driver almost fell asleep and the passengers then debated whether the driver ought to keep going despite his fatigue as to not waste time, or whether he should rest to ensure their safe arrival...) Frankie and his sister, however, came to Saint Louis for one night, and paid me a surprise visit. It was great to go out for a couple beers on the island, catch up, and watch the Moscow-Inter Milan soccer game (the bar sadly didn't get the Barcelona-Manchester United match). I've become somewhat of a TV soccer fan here, hoping to catch a game and a drink on Saturday to celebrate my birthday a few days early. (On the sixth, my host mom is cooking roasted chicken with onion sauce on a bed of salad, and Dylan's gonna come over to celebrate.)

MSID is currently in its internship period; mine is at the Senegalese Association for Familial Well-Being, as I wrote a few weeks ago. Monday through Friday, I wake up at 7:30, eat ndekkee (breakfast) in my room, and walk the half-hour to work. From 8:30ish to 2PM, I help carry out triage (in the sense of figuring out what the women need, not assessing ER-type needs) with Mariam, sell medicines in our small on-site pharmacy that doubles as the triage office, record data from pre-natal/family planning consultations with Ami, Aby, or Soda, and just generally observe what goes on. On alternating Saturdays, a driver brings an ultrasound machine from Louga (an hour away in good traffic), and I watch the doctor perform the exams.

At 2:00, I take the car rapide home for lunch with the family, followed by two or three rounds of Ataaya and lounging around. Every other day or so, I take the car rapide to the city center (on the island) to meet up with Dylan, run errands, or use an internet café. On the off-days I just watch soccer, chat with my host aunt who speaks French, listen to music in bed, etc. We eat dinner around 8:30, and by 10:30 I’m usually in bed. Unlike Dakar, it’s a fairly simple, repetitive life here. I spend a lot of time at home with the family, despite their difficulties with French and my even greater difficulties with Wolof. I even showed my little brothers Moussa (14) and Pape Modou (15) some Kuk Sool techniques the other night.

As I arrived toward the end of March, when the women of St. Louis had less money for healthcare as money from the last payday withered, work was fairly light during my first week. Except for zany ultrasound Saturday we got through the all the patients far before 2PM every day, which translated into a fair amount of down time. Since the 1st, things have picked up, but it never gets crazy. In fact, it’s mostly monotonous at this point. I mean, how many times can you observe a task that you’ll never yourself perform before it gets boring? My role as a scribe, writing down kilograms and centimeters and dates as they’re measured or reported, feels more like a charitable replacement for idleness than an actual contribution. I’d rather do something boring than something blatantly redundant whose interestingness has hit diminishing returns, so I spend a lot of time selling services and medicines in terse Wolof. I’m hoping to talk to my boss when she gets back from vacation.

Fortunately, my “work” at ASBEF is only half of the internship: I’m ostensibly supposed to be conducting some sort of research on a topic of my choosing (approved by my supervisor), though past MSID participants have said that the research report is more like a memoir or journal. My topic is currently the system of relais that the agency uses to distribute condoms around the city. On the quantitative side of things, I want to know who’s giving out the condoms (when, where, and how) who’s receiving them (sex, profession), how many are given out (per person, per month, etc), and what’s being done with them (used, redistributed, sold, kept). On the qualitative side, I’m interested in the discourse between the relais and the clients. In what languages, what terms, are the condoms being discussed, and in the context of what themes? What topics are taboo?

Lots of pomp and circumstance today: all the TV channels were broadcasting live footage of the parade and speeches surrounding the 50th anniversary of Senegal’s independence and the opening of its gaudy, Transformers-inspired Monument to the African Renaissance. I watched the propaganda all day – eek, tanks in the streets – until I couldn’t take it any more and met Dylan at the internet café.

Tonight, I'll watch the Yekini-Tyson wrestling match with the family. Tomorrow, I'm going to an 8-hour baptism... I have photos to post, but no way to post them.